


The Afterlife of The Party

by neversaydie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Dead Idiots in Love, F/M, Ghost Sex, Halloween, Haunting, Idiots in Love, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Violence, Poltergeists, Sam and Nat have an adopted daughter, Skinny!Steve, Steve is a Protective Spirit, Steve is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh no. Hell no."</p><p>Bucky freezes with his hand halfway to the giant ornamental vase the new family have just unpacked. Smashing it would be the perfect way to announce himself on moving day: a big, stylish gesture that's ambiguous enough to leave them feeling only slightly unnerved until he decides things need to escalate.</p><p>That is, it would be the perfect way to announce himself if a skinny blond kid hadn't just walked through the living room wall.</p><p>"This house is taken, pal. What the fuck?"</p><p>"Uh, this is my family." The kid is standing there awkwardly, like they're still corporeal and he might have to duck or deliver a punch in the near future.</p><p>"This is my house." He narrows his eyes and slowly gets to his feet. The guy's eyes keep flicking to his missing arm and Bucky is starting to see red. "And I don't appreciate other people living in it."</p><p>[in which Dead Dorks in Love, awkward ghost sex, and a whole lot of accidental feelings happen]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Afterlife of The Party

"Oh no. Hell no."

Bucky freezes with his hand halfway to the giant ornamental vase the new family have just unpacked. Smashing it would be the perfect way to announce himself on moving day: a big, stylish gesture that's ambiguous enough to leave them feeling only slightly unnerved until he decides things need to escalate.

That is, it _would_ be the perfect way to announce himself, if a skinny blond kid hadn't just walked through the living room wall.

"This house is _taken_ , pal. What the fuck?" Bucky sits back on his haunches and sizes the kid up critically. He's not a malicious spirit, there's not that much energy coming off him, maybe he just got lost and wandered into the wrong house. 

"Uh, this is my family." The kid is standing there awkwardly, like they're still corporeal and he might have to duck or deliver a punch in the near future.

Bucky sighs heavily, which takes some effort considering his lungs don't work anymore. Things are about to get really annoying.

"You know you're dead, right?" He raises his eyebrows critically, because he's got no patience for newbies who can't cross over. That's totally _not_ his area of expertise.

"Yeah, obviously. I died in 1929, so the TVs were kind of a giveaway." The kid scowls, and Bucky can't help the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. He liked to get a rise out of people by his nature, even before he changed. "I'm attached to Sarah."

"The kid?" Bucky has already seen the little redhead girl exploring the house, already sized up a few cabinets he can lock her in if she gets too annoying. "Relative?"

"I figure so. I woke up and I was with her, plus it's my Mom's name too, so...." The guy folds his arms and looks Bucky over where he's kneeling next to the vase on the floor, and Bucky's about to smash something on principle if he keeps getting looked at like _he's_ the intruder. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my house." He narrows his eyes and slowly gets to his feet. The guy's eyes keep flicking to his missing arm and Bucky is starting to see red. "And I don't appreciate other people living in it."

"Well, technically you're not _living_ in it…" The kid smirks like he thinks he's smart, and that's what pushes him over the edge.

Bucky kicks the ornamental vase so hard it hits the wall with a loud _SMASH_ that brings the two adults of the family running from where they've been unpacking upstairs. Bucky leaves them to their confusion and pops out, because he's just irritated now.

People. In his house. With another ghost.

Great.

*

Fuzzing up TV channels is day-one stuff, especially after that fucking movie that gave Bucky a name for whatever he'd woken up as when someone rented it on VHS a couple of years after he crossed over. Still, it's a nice way to start flexing his haunting muscles after they've been dormant for a while. The house was empty for about a year (he thinks, his sense of time isn't awesome without someone putting up a calendar or there being a working TV with a clock on it) before this family moved in, and he's got to admit it had started to get a little boring to be alone. Living people get annoying quickly, but they're entertaining while they last.

When he switches the channel from some cartoon to _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ and the little girl starts crying, he's got to laugh a bit. It _is_ funny, and it's not like he gets a lot of amusement around here.

But then of course there's _him_ , popping up from behind the TV and switching the channel back with a glare in Bucky's direction. Ruining all the fun like the po-faced little Chihuahua he is. 

"You're an asshole." He glares so hard that Bucky would be worried if he hadn't already figured out that the guy is about as powerful as an environmentally-friendly lightbulb. "Leave her alone."

"It was just a joke, Jesus." Bucky rolls his eyes and looks him straight in the face as he pushes the kid's water glass off the coffee table and makes her jump at the sudden _smash_. "Where are her dumb parents, anyway?"

"Their shifts overlap by an hour, so it's just us after school." The guy looks seriously pissed, probably lost a lot of fights while he was alive if his personality crossed over with him. "So all you're doing is frightening an eight year old. Stop it."

"Great parenting." Bucky snorts, flicking the newspaper off the coffee table just to piss the guy off. The kid is crying again, and he tries to keep his resolve and not feel bad about it just because someone is watching him do it. Life's not fair, kids should probably learn that early anyway.

"St-Steve?" The little girl sniffles mournfully, and to Bucky's surprise the guy turns his attention away from their argument and strokes his hand over her hair.

She looks up like she can feel the touch, and her face suddenly bursts into a smile. Bucky's eyes bug up enough that they'd probably pop out of his head if they were affected by gravity. She can see him? What the _fuck_?

"Steve!" Sarah reaches out for the guy, and he hugs her with a crease in his brow like he's having to concentrate hard on it. Probably can't keep himself corporeal without a lot of effort, Bucky figures, which isn't a problem for him because he's another kind of spirit entirely. "I was scared you got lost at the old house."

"I didn't, I'm here." The guy lets her go quickly, looking slightly winded after the interaction. He's really not the strongest spirit around, and travelling to a new location seems to weaken the ones who can manage it. Bucky thinks so from what he's observed, anyway, he can't exactly leave the house himself.

"Why was there scary stuff on the TV? And why did you break my glass?" She doesn't seem scared anymore, she's even got a pissy little look on her face because she thinks the guy (Steve, apparently) has been messing with her. "That wasn't nice."

"It wasn't me, there's another person living here already." Steve tries to explain, glaring at Bucky where he's sitting in front of the couch. Sarah follows his gaze curiously, but she clearly can't hear or see Bucky. "He's kind of a mean jerk."

"Is he a secret person too?" Bucky raises his eyebrows because, well, shit. That's a kid-friendly explanation for 'I'm dead and kinda still here and nobody but you can see me' if he's ever heard one. How long has Steve been talking to this kid? "What's his name?"

"Yeah, he's a secret person too." Steve looks at Bucky expectantly, prompting him when he doesn't immediately answer. "Well, what's your name?"

He actually has to think for a second about the answer. He tells himself it's because he's so surprised the kid can interact with them, not because it's been so long since anyone spoke to him. He's not _that_ desperate for interaction outside his own head.

"Bucky." He says eventually, not elaborating further. Steve just nods and turns back to Sarah with a smile.

"His name is Bucky, and he's not going to hurt you." Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but something about the quiet determination in Steve's voice kills any sound he might think of making. He actually believes he wouldn't get past this guy, however weak he is. "I promise."

"She can see you?" Bucky blurts out, unable to sit on his curiosity any longer, and Steve mumbles something reassuring to the kid before he answers. Sarah clearly can't see him anymore, turning her attention calmly back to the now-child-friendly TV screen.

"Sometimes, if I want her to." He shrugs, a little sheepish now Bucky isn't being an asshole and he's not on the defensive. "She was on her own for a long time, she didn't have anybody else."

"You're not supposed to do that." It's not exactly an admonishment. Bucky's pretty much the most visible type of spirit there is, he can't really lecture about getting noticed. "You're gonna get her locked up in some asylum."

"She's eight, I'm her imaginary friend." Steve crosses his arms with a distrustful little frown, because he knows he's breaking the rules and he clearly doesn't give a shit. "I don't think I'm the one who's doing her more harm, anyway."

"I wasn't gonna hurt her." Bucky protests, surprised by how much he cares about Steve realising that. He really must have got lonely to care about this little punk, shit. "I was just… I was just messing with her a bit."

"Well, don't. Don't mess with her." He growls down at Bucky, and Bucky wonders how the hell he always ends up being lower than this guy when they interact. He's got to stop imagining that his arm throws him off-balance and stand up when he haunts. "I'm serious."

"So get her and her asshole parents outta my house." Bucky fires back, but Steve just keeps glaring down at him until he lets out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. "Fine, I'll leave the kid alone."

"Thank you." Steve nods, sitting down on the couch beside Sarah, legs resting beside Bucky's spot on the carpet. It's weird to be close to a living person after all this time, let alone having another spirit so close they're almost touching. "Do you know this show?"

Bucky blinks in confusion and looks at the TV for a second before he shakes his head. Animation looks totally different every few years, and it's been a while since anybody with a young child lived in this house. The last thing he remembers clearly is Rugrats, and this is definitely not Rugrats.

"It's called Danny Phantom, it's about ghosts." Bucky cranes over his shoulder and he's pretty sure he catches a smile on the corner of Steve's lips as he gives the explanation. "You can watch it with us if you want. As long as you don't break anything else."

There's no answer. When Steve glances down at where Bucky had been, the other spirit is gone. It confuses him slightly, because Bucky is clearly starved for conversation and interaction, so why would he push it away when it's offered? Is he really that committed to keeping every living soul out of his house? Steve hadn't got that impression, but it's always a little difficult for him to read people from the future.

Still, nothing else gets mysteriously broken that night. It seems promising, if nothing else.

*

The next time they interact, Bucky pops into the hallway upstairs without really meaning to. He was thinking about the little blond punk again (which he totally hasn't been doing more than he should lately) and suddenly found himself outside the kid's bedroom, the sound of the little girl singing to herself floating through the door. His sudden manifestation unsettles him, because it's been a long time since he was so out of control of himself as to appear or move without realising he was doing it.

Something about Steve throws him off, and he's not sure why that is.

"Hey." Steve looks up from the book he's reading with a smile when Bucky comes through the wall. Sarah isn't paying attention to him, so clearly they haven't been playing together, and the smile takes Bucky by surprise as a result. If he's not trying to reassure the kid, then why is he being nice? "I was beginning to think you left."

"Can't exactly do that." Bucky shrugs, leaning back against the wall and folding his arm uncomfortably over his chest, forgetting for a moment (as always) that he doesn't have a second to cross it with. "I've been here since '93."

"Is that when you died?" Steve catches himself, and Bucky would swear the guy would be blushing if his heart was still beating. "I mean, passed. I mean. Um…"

"Yeah, when I died." There's an involuntary smile forming on his face because this guy is a dork and yeah, the fact that makes him smile is really weird to Bucky. Smiling kind of feels like touching a bruise and he can't remember the last time he did it. Nineteen ninety-three, probably. "How about you? Did you say the twenties?"

"1929." Steve nods, glancing at Sarah where she's busy playing with her dolls on the windowsill like a dutiful babysitter before turning his attention back to Bucky. "I got TB in the winter and couldn't shake it. I had a list of medical problems as long as your arm, so it wasn't exactly a shock."

"Still, that sucks. What are you, like twenty?" It's just an assumption, but the skinny little guy bristles all the same. The first word that comes to mind is _cute_ , and Bucky feels slightly disgusted with himself.

"I'm twenty-six. I was, I mean." Steve sighs heavily and Bucky's starting to think that frustration is a good look on him. "I just look young. I did. What about you?"

"Twenty-three." Bucky shrugs, because Steve seems to really enjoy talking and he doesn't want to have to talk about this stuff too much. "How long have you been stuck with this kid?"

"Since she was born. Eight years." He looks at her fondly, and something about the idea of having that connection, something that's not fuelled by rage, makes Bucky feel weird and unsettled inside. "I used to be able to go back and forth between her and her Mom, but it stopped after a few years. Maybe she died, I don't know."

"So can you like, leave her? Or…?" Bucky can't deny he's curious. He found out quickly that he couldn't move beyond the perimeter of the yard, or he'd blink and find himself right back in the room where he died. It's refreshing to be able to talk to someone who's actually been in the outside world during the last two decades.

"For a while. After a day or so I wake up right back beside her though." Steve seems to get the message that Bucky's not exactly comfortable talking about his death, but he definitely wants to find out more about his life. "What's Bucky short for?"

"Buchanan. World's crappiest middle name." Bucky looks down at his fingernails, still smudged with the last remnants of the black polish that had been on them when he died, as he tries to remember how to have an actual conversation. "How long has she been with these idiots?"

"Nat and Sam? Almost two years. They're good people, they just work a lot. They're a lot better than some of the foster families we've been with." It sounds like he genuinely cares about them and that's… also weird to Bucky.

He can't remember the last time he had an emotion that wasn't anger or resentment or spiteful happiness about making some dumb breather upset or scared. And this guy has a family? That he wants to protect? It's difficult for Bucky to wrap his head around, he can't even lie to himself about it.

"Hey, are you okay?" Steve breaks into his thoughts cautiously, and Bucky looks up to see a concerned frown on the little guy's face. It makes him feel strange again, where his stomach used to be, and he's not sure he likes it.

"Yeah. It's been a long time since I talked to anyone." He admits, slowly, but Steve doesn't look impatient. "Apart from like, 'get out' and shit."

"Why do you make everyone leave?" From the look on his face, he didn't mean to ask that question. Bucky stiffens up immediately and Steve tries to smooth things over. "I mean, breathers are company, even if you can't talk to them."

"What makes you think I want company?" There's definitely anger creeping into his voice, and Steve's book slams shut as some of his destructive energy seeps out with it.

"You just seem kinda lonely, that's all." Steve pops between Bucky and Sarah automatically. The kid is starting to shift uneasily as the temperature of the room drops dramatically, her breath misting in front of her face. "Buck—"

"I'm not lonely! I want to be alone!" He's losing his temper, and he can't do a damn thing to rein himself in when the rage takes over. "I want all of you _out_!"

At the last yelled word, the hardcover book of fairy tales Steve had been reading flies off the desk and smacks Sarah in the head. The little girl crumples to the floor and starts crying, a hand clapped over her head where blood is starting to seep through her fingers. The temperature in the room rises immediately back to normal as Bucky is snapped out of his rage by the plaintive sound, suddenly realising what he's done.

"Shit, I—"

"Go away."

Something has changed, when Bucky pulls his focus off the kid and back onto Steve. The guy looks bigger, more solid somehow, more _present_ than his usual half-opaque appearance. He's also _livid_.

 _Oh_ , something in the back of Bucky's mind pipes up unhelpfully, _protection spirit._

"Steve—"

" _Go away!_ "

There's a loud tearing sound at the command, and Bucky abruptly finds himself outside the house, as close to the perimeter of his domain as he can get without being flung back inside. He tries to pop back, to apologise for breaking their agreement, but no matter how much he tries he can't go inside the house. Even physically rattling the doorknobs and prying at the unlocked windows does nothing but make him frustrated enough to knock the browning leaves off the apple tree that stands ten feet back.

Bucky spends the night curled up in the tree's roots, banished.

*

A week or so after the incident, things have settled down in the house and Steve is supervising Sarah preparing her lunch. Her parents' shifts often overlap for an hour or more at the weekends, and this Saturday is no exception. He's already surreptitiously turned the heat on the stove down a couple of times when her spaghetti-ohs started to bubble, but she's doing a pretty good job of not setting the house on fire, all told.

He figures that's why Bucky takes the opportunity to pop up, because Steve won't leave if he has to keep an eye on the kid. The timing doesn't make his presence any more welcome.

"I'm sorry." Bucky spits it out quickly, before Steve can open his mouth and banish him again pre-emptively. "I didn't mean to hurt her."

"But you did." Steve is sitting perched on the counter with his arms folded, and a part of Bucky that's clearly got no interest in self-preservation really wants to tell him how cute he looks when he's mad.

"I know. I'm sorry." Bucky leans on the table, keeping himself upright despite his discomfort at the slight feeling of vertigo it causes after too long. Maybe it's because he never stood up without an arm in life, but he can't seem to adjust no matter how hard he tries. "I can't… I can't control it. When I get mad I break things, I can't stop it."

"I figured." Steve doesn't exactly relent, but he's got less of the barbed, protective energy seeping off him now as he looks Bucky up and down like he's seeing him for the first time. "I never met one of you before."

"We're not exactly social." The scrutiny is unpleasant, but Bucky endures it because he figures he owes Steve that much. He needs to prove he can get himself at least a little in check, or he's going to be stuck with nothing but the silence of his own head again.

He's decided he doesn't want that, even if it goes against all his instincts. He really doesn't want to be alone again. Not for a while, at least.

"Comes with the territory, I guess." It seems like Steve is trying to press his buttons, see how far he can push Bucky before he reaches the point of no return, because he asks his next question so damn casually. "Are you a murder or a suicide?"

The burner on the stove flares up abruptly, flames licking up the side of the pot of spaghetti, and Steve hurriedly turns the dial back to a normal level before Sarah can burn herself. When he looks back, Bucky has his eyes tightly closed and seems to be concentrating very hard on keeping his energy contained.

"Do I have to answer that?" He grits out without opening his eyes, knuckles white where he's gripping the kitchen table to stay on his feet.

"Better not." Steve concedes, and Bucky collapses into the nearest chair with a sound of relief, totally drained as his reaction finally fizzles out.

"I… Sorry. I haven't thought about it for a long time." He feels oddly embarrassed, even though he actually did a pretty good job of controlling himself this time. Even a breather would have a visceral reaction to that question, come on. "I don't like thinking about it."

"Can't exactly blame you for that." There's still caution in Steve's expression, but the wariness has dialled down since he seems to have figured out Bucky controlled himself as much as he was able to. "Just to let you know, if you go nuclear around her again then I'm gonna have to get between you. I don't want you to get hurt if you're not expecting it."

"Why do you care if _I_ get hurt?" The statement blindsides Bucky, and he frowns at Steve's slightly awkward shifting on the counter. Is he… shy?

"Sometimes I get lonely too. And you're not terrible company. I guess. When you're not exploding." He sounds so reluctant to admit it that the clumsy phrasing makes Bucky's mouth twitch up at the corners again. Twice in one year, that's an afterlife record for him.

Maybe this is worth the effort of keeping his temper in check. Maybe.

"I'll try not to hurt her." Bucky pulls a weak smile, and Steve looks just as surprised by it as he feels. Sarah continues to hum to herself as she makes her lunch, apparently unbothered by random stove flare-ups and the fluctuating energy in the room. "But if you've gotta banish me again, I get it."

"Next time I'll try and do it _before_ she's on the floor bleeding." Steve gives him a pointed look and Bucky groans, dropping his head forward to rest on the kitchen table with an audible _thunk_ that makes Sarah look over her shoulder curiously for a moment.

"I said I'm sorry." Steve has a hand over his mouth when Bucky looks up, clearly trying to smother a laugh. He must be at least slightly forgiven, then. "You're an asshole."

"Well, that makes two of us."

Their bickering continues throughout lunch, and once Bucky stops Sarah from pulling a carton of orange juice onto herself out of the fridge he figures he's probably totally forgiven. It's a lot of pressure to be under, trying to keep a lid on the energy he's always let bubble out of him freely, but Bucky figures he can give it a shot.

For Steve, he kind of wants to try.

*

Their first kiss is so awkward that it almost kills them both all over again from sheer embarrassment.

There's been a certain amount of tension between them since the book incident, and Bucky has been working hard to channel his energies into more benign haunting manifestations when the kid is around. It's only when she's out of the house and he's alone with the adults that he pulls out the big guns: throwing things across the room while they're in it, burning things, or touching their shoulders and necks to freak them out. He keeps it low-key because he doesn't want to escalate things too quickly, not when he's just starting to patch things up with Steve.

It's nice to have somebody to talk to, Bucky will admit. More than nice, it's a relief he can't really describe after so many years of nothing but silence. The anger over his death, the thing that had trapped him here in the first place, had started to sour into bitterness after so many years of dwelling on it, and it hasn't improved his personality any. He catches on pretty quickly that he comes across as very pessimistic, which makes Bucky sad because he wasn't like that when he was still breathing. It's the first time he misses being alive in years, because he's pretty sure Steve would have liked breather-Bucky a lot better than the guy he is now.

The first time he laughs, really laughs, it catches in his throat and he's suddenly sobbing because it's the first time he's been happy since nineteen ninety-three and he's been so gut-wrenchingly _sad_ that he didn't even realise how horrible it was until he felt good again. Steve has to banish him into the garden, because the house starts to tremble with the force of Bucky's emotions and things are falling off shelves perilously close to his charge, but he looks reluctant as he does it.

Steve goes out into the garden with him, once the storm has passed, and this time Bucky doesn't sleep in the roots of the apple tree alone.

Things intensify between them after that, after Bucky remembers how to smile and starts doing so on a regular basis. At first it's small touches, little pulses of energy skittering through them at the contact, and fingers laced together while they both pretend they're not thinking about it too hard. There had been an awkward conversation, early on, in which Bucky had tentatively tried to bring up the topic of his sexuality under the assumption that because Steve is from The Past it might affect their friendship.

The response 'I have literally sucked over a mile of dick' was definitely a lot better than the polite tolerance Bucky had been expecting.

Once it's established that he's not going to get banished for trying, it's only a matter of time before Bucky tries to do something about the weird feelings he gets in his chest whenever Steve smiles at him. The family aren't going to be here forever, he figures, so even if he fucks up then there's only a limited time frame for things to be uncomfortable between them. He gets his chance while they're sitting on the couch together one afternoon, Sarah playing on the carpet and needing minimal supervision from her dead babysitter.

Bucky doesn't close his eyes straight away when he leans in to Steve. It's been a long time since he did anything like this. He remembers it's creepy to kiss someone with their eyes open at the last second, and squeezes them shut just as he –

Falls right through Steve and ends up with his face smushed against the couch cushions.

"What the hell, dude?!" He springs back up immediately, wounded pride digging into his ribs as Steve looks _mortified_.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were gonna… I have to concentrate to be solid enough to touch." There's a laugh lurking just under his voice and Bucky scowls. Impressively, considering he was just about to kiss this idiot a second ago. "You gotta give me some warning."

"What, I gotta count from ten every time I want to kiss you?" Bucky grumbles, feeling slightly off-kilter after falling on his face. He's never really adjusted to the balance he's lost without his arm, and it's weird to feel self-conscious about it after not having anyone to be embarrassed in front of for so long.

"Why, you wanna kiss me that often it'll piss you off?" Steve smirks, and Bucky holds up a warning finger for a second before grabbing the little punk by the shirt and dragging him into a rough kiss.

He doesn't fall onto the couch this time.

*

"… seriously weird."

"I know, I called the realtor but she said she didn't know anything."

Bucky pops in outside the couple's bedroom door, focusing on their conversation so he doesn't have to bother going through the wood to hear them. The previous week's haunting has taken it out of him, and he'd like to save the energy if he can. He's been picking up the pace lately, tossing in some weird sounds at night (scratching, footsteps in the attic) just to get the anxiety flowing. He's been getting too sappy with Steve and the kid, and it's making him weak.

In a weird way, Bucky kind of enjoys the stage where people start to get scared of him. It means they're talking about him, at least, and he was always kind of an attention whore when he was breathing. Scaring people makes him feel less lonely, kind of. It's the best substitute he's got for real contact.

Besides Steve, he reminds himself. He does have Steve now.

"I looked it up online." Natasha is explaining quietly, as if that would help. "Apparently some kid was murdered here in the nineties."

"So you figure they're haunting the place? If it's true?" Sam sounds sceptical, and Bucky wonders if he should knock on the wall or something just to drive the uncertainty out of his voice. What Natasha says next, however, stops him dead in his tracks.

He'd laugh at his own pun if he didn't suddenly feel like he was dying all over again.

"The article says this guy got attacked by his ex-boyfriend and they found him under the floorboards a few weeks later. If I was his spirit, I'd be pissed too."

_"Please!"_

_"Fuckin' whore. Nobody else can have you." He's muttering to himself feverishly, booted foot heavy on Bucky's neck and choking off his air as he leans over him with the serrated –_

_Black spots in his vision as the pain swells and can't possibly get worse but then it does and he can't disappear. When he fucked him Bucky had been able to disappear into his head but now he's so present and he can't he can't he can't –_

_There's a crack and he's cold, so cold even through the blinding pain. And there's a hand in his hair shoving his head to the side, forcing him to look at_

_to look at_

Bucky screams.

All the lightbulbs in the house explode, plunging everything into darkness as the living start screaming too.

By the time Steve has flung himself out of the couple's bedroom to find him, Bucky is already gone.

*

It's three long days before Steve walks into the back bedroom and finds Bucky sitting on the bench at the bay window. The relief hits him like a sledgehammer, because he'd been starting to worry that Bucky had burned himself out and disappeared for good. Apparently he'd just been hiding, maybe recharging his batteries after the explosion that drained him completely.

Bucky doesn't look up as Steve moves over to him, because it's not like it could be anyone else coming to talk about the shit he'd been hoping he'd never have to think about again.

"He cut me up and put me in garbage bags. Put me under the floorboards. It took a while for anyone to miss me and come looking." Bucky's voice is flat as he stares blankly out of the window, not looking at Steve. He knows that's what his friend wants to ask about, so he doesn't beat around the bush. "He took my arm first and I died after that, so…"  

"That's why you don't have it now." Steve finishes quietly, standing a little too close for comfort. Bucky shrugs, his focus still on Sarah playing in the garden so he doesn't have to make eye contact with Steve. "Do you miss it?"

"My arm? Nah, it's not like I had to learn to jerk off with the other hand or whatever." He's being deliberately obtuse, but it's not like Steve can force him to answer. Bucky's the more powerful of the two and they both know it. It's a semi-comforting thought.

"I mean being alive." Steve sits down on the other side of the window bay bench, and Bucky glances at him for a second before he shrugs again, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arm around them in an old habit.

"Not really. My life was kinda crappy a lot of the time. I miss my sisters, I guess. If I wasn't stuck here I'd probably try and see them, I'd like to know if they're happy." He rests his chin on his knees and watches the little red-haired girl throwing autumn leaves at her dad and laughing, a silent movie playing out like a parody of everything he never got to have. "You?"

"Sometimes. I don't miss being sick all the time though, and I don't miss knowing I was a huge burden on my Mom." Steve muses, his resigned tone taking Bucky by surprise because he'd always expected Steve to be more of the 'living people are superior' type of spirit. He's encountered a few of those and they're always so… peppy. "I didn't come back right away, I was asleep until Sarah was born. It was kinda strange to be suddenly thrown into the future like that, I feel like I missed a lot."

"Don't you ever get mad about what happened to you?" Bucky finally looks at him when he speaks, and Steve smiles softly at the tiny gesture of trust. "Now you know medicine is better and shit, that you might've lived?"

"When I was alive the life expectancy for someone like me was pretty crappy. I never figured I'd hit thirty anyway, so I didn't feel so hard done by when the time came." He pauses and considers if it's a good idea to keep talking before he asks the question, quietly. "You're angry, aren't you?"

"A guy chopped me up into little pieces while I was still awake. I'm not sending him a Christmas card." The words are ground out reluctantly, like it's a struggle for Bucky to form them. "Anger's pretty much all I've got left."

"You've got me." Steve reaches out and wraps his hand loosely around Bucky's ankle, surprised by how little effort it takes to let his friend register the touch. It doesn't seem to make him feel much better, though.

"For now." Bucky mumbles, looking out at the family in the yard again. "But when they leave, you'll go too. She's got you, not me."

Steve doesn't have an answer for that, not one he wants to give, anyway. They sit quietly in the window as the light falls, watching the living breathe.

*

Since their time together is limited, Bucky and Steve make a silent, unstated pact to get the most out of it they possibly can.

The first time they have sex is pretty much as awkward as their first kiss. It also involves Steve utterly failing at staying hard. Sort of.

"Are you sure we don't need lube for this?" Bucky knew he could get an erection, because he's had nothing but time to jerk off over the last twenty-two years, but jerking it out of boredom is nothing compared to the visceral _want_ he has pulsing in his veins now.

The only problem is, he's not exactly sure how to do sex without a body.

"It's gonna be a struggle staying solid enough for friction, I don't think lube is the problem." Steve huffs, very naked and starting to get self-conscious about it. He'd never been the biggest fan of his body while he was alive, and between his neuroses and them both trying not to look at the unhealed end of Bucky's arm-stump things are already complicated enough.

"But I don't wanna hurt you." Bucky frowns, not sure if he's worrying over nothing. They've fingered each other enough times to figure out that prep isn't an issue, so maybe it's just a breather-world hang-up he needs to let go of. "But I guess it'd be bad if someone walked in and saw random lube floating in the air, so…"

"Floating lube? God, shut up. Were you this much of a dork while you were alive?" Steve doesn't sound too exasperated by it, and he goes up on his tiptoes to kiss Bucky and shut his mouth before he says something else awkward and kills the vibe completely. "Fuck me before I change my mind, jerk."

Bucky _tries_.

Things are going fine, it's hot to bang Steve up against the wall even if the balance is a little challenging, and they're getting more confident by the minute. Bucky didn't top much while he was alive, but he pulls out the few moves he has and has Steve making embarrassing noises of pleasure that he just can't hold back.

They're just getting really into it when Steve falls backwards through the wall.

Bucky is left with his dick inside a disembodied ass for a second, frozen in bewilderment, until Steve's torso re-emerges. He's laughing so much he's practically crying, of course.

"What the fuck, Steve?!"

"I forgot to keep my back solid! I was concentrating on my ass!" He's _crying_ with laughter and Bucky's not sure whether he's offended or just endeared. Plus the fact that he's never been inside someone while they laughed before and it's all very distracting.

"So, what you're telling me is you couldn't stay hard?" There's humour in Bucky's voice too, even if it's a little more muted, and Steve smacks him on the chest because Bucky is a _dork_.

Standing up gets hard when they're both giggling, so eventually Steve shoves Bucky into the nearest chair and rides him like he stole him.

Next time they fuck, Steve manages to 'stay hard' the entire time. Bucky laughs at his own boner joke for ten minutes straight after they're done. For a little while, it's like they don't have a time limit chasing them down. Together, they're happy enough to forget.

*

"Who's that, honey?" Sarah is drawing at the kitchen table while her Dad makes dinner, and Sam points out of the figures in her picture when he glances over to check on her. If there was any breath in Steve's chest, it would catch when he realises what Sam has picked out of the mess of doodles.

The figure has one arm.

"That's Bucky." Sarah explains, drinking up the attention from her father because her parents work too much for them to manage a lot of quality time together. "He breaks things because he's sad."

"Yeah? How come he's sad?" Steve can see Sam frowning at the picture, practically hear the cogs turning in his mind and Natasha's story about the cut-up kid rising to the surface of his thoughts.

This isn't good, this is the kind of shit that could lead to the house being exorcised and Bucky banished for good. Hell, it could get them _both_ destroyed, if the family got in touch with somebody halfway smart who put two and two together and figured out _imaginary friend_ made four. He needs to talk to Bucky about this, because he didn't know Sarah had seen him and he's pretty sure Bucky doesn't either.

"I don't know. I think somebody was mean to him." Sarah shrugs, starting to work on the next person in her drawing, which makes Steve feel warm inside when he realises who it is. A small stick figure with a smudge of yellow hair. "Him and Steve fight a lot, but they're really friends."

"Oh, he's friends with Steve?" Sam visibly relaxes, because Sarah's 'imaginary friend' has been a fixture in their lives ever since they adopted her. The agency said it was common for kids who'd been moved around a lot to create something to be attached to, so he and Natasha are just hoping the fantasy fades away once she feels really secure as part of their family. "We haven't heard about Steve for a while."

"He's busy stopping Bucky breaking things. But he still makes sure I don't have nightmares." The little girl lifts her head and grins in Steve's direction, so he waggles his fingers playfully back even though Sam turning to look at the same space makes him slightly nervous. He knows the man can't see him, but he still gets a little pang of paranoia sometimes.

When he realises he didn't purposefully manifest so she could see him, the paranoia increases. What the hell is happening here?

"That's nice of him. D'you think you could ask him to stop Bucky breaking things completely?" This is beyond humouring his child, and Sam is still staring right at Steve like he's trying to make something magically appear in the air so he can understand, but Sarah just nods happily.

"He heard you. He'll help, he doesn't like Bucky being sad."

No, Steve agrees silently, he doesn't. But he's got a feeling Bucky's about to get a lot sadder.

*

"What the fuck are you talking about, Steve?"

Bucky isn't just pissed at Steve's suggestion, he's _hurt_. That makes it a hell of a lot harder for Steve to stick to his guns and explain the situation calmly. He's deliberately chosen a moment when Sarah and her parents are out to talk to Bucky, because he doesn't want to have to banish him in the middle of the conversation for their safety. Bucky's been keeping a handle on himself lately, but the explosion is almost inevitable depending on how this conversation plays out.

"You need to scare them away. I mean put effort into it, not just the bare minimum you're doing now." He repeats, trying to make it sound like he's sure about this. "Sarah saw you, and things are gonna get really bad for her if she starts talking about people nobody else can see."

"That's ridiculous, how could she see me?" Bucky is looking at him like he's crazy, and Steve _needs_ him to listen and not just discount this. "Some kid at school probably told her about someone getting murdered here or whatever."

"Buck, she drew you. With one arm. Nobody could have told her you died… at that point." It's a delicate subject, so he skirts around it quickly as soon as he sees the truth register with Bucky. "There's so much spirit energy around that it's starting to affect her. She can see me all the time now, and I'm not doing that."

"But… I mean, why does it matter if she can see me? You said it was fine that she had an imaginary friend, what's wrong with two?" Bucky's beginning to realise that he's backed into a corner here, and it pains Steve to see him try and scrabble for a way out like a frightened animal.

"I was manifesting to her less and less before we came here, she's getting too old to talk to thin air without someone taking her to a doctor. It's not cute once the imaginary friend is a murder victim." Steve takes Bucky's hand and gets shaken off for his trouble, shoved back across the living room with the force of Bucky's temper. "Buck, I'm just being realistic."

"I don't want to scare them away." He's not angry, Steve realises, he's _desperate_. Bucky is panicking and the lights and appliances are flickering on and off with the fearful heartbeat he doesn't have. "If they go then you go, and I don't want you to leave. You can't just come in here and make me feel alive again and then fuck off."

"I don't wanna leave either, Buck." Steve's voice cracks and he pushes through the energy pulsing off Bucky and wraps his arms around him, holding him as close and tight as he can. It's only once he's done it that he realises he doesn't have to try and be solid right now, touching Bucky isn't a struggle anymore. "But Sarah, she's my priority. You know I can't put her needs second any more than you can stop –"

"I don't wanna go back to the silence." Bucky buries his face in Steve's chest and Steve is now pretty sure a heart _can_ break once it's stopped beating. "I don't wanna be alone anymore, Steve. Please don't make me."

"I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_." He holds Bucky steady while the house shakes around them and crockery starts breaking, because it's all he can do. "I'd stay if I could, you know that. But she needs me."

"I need you." The plea is so quiet Steve barely hears it, and he kind of wishes he hadn't because it _hurts_. There's nothing he can do to make it better, because they don't make the rules they're bound by any more than breathers do.

Bucky deserves to be happy, but Steve can't do a damn thing about it. It kind of makes him want to die all over again.

*

It takes Bucky two agonisingly short months to haunt the Wilsons out of their house.

When he puts his mind to it, he's really an excellent haunter. He quickly zeroes in on Natasha's fear of confined spaces, Sam's paranoia over sudden noises left over from his military service, and their joint fear of anything happening to Sarah. Once he convinces the kid to hide in a cabinet for a few hours and drive them crazy with worry (cop callout and everything, he'd be proud if it was a different family), they start discussing moving again.

Bucky hates every second of it. He hates scaring the kid (who he's actually come to tolerate, perhaps even grudgingly like on a good day when she's exceptionally un-annoying), he hates putting so much energy into this bullshit haunting that he's barely coherent when he spends time with Steve, and he hates the prospect of them all leaving so much that he disappears for an entire day when they put the house back on the market. Steve finds him the following evening, lying on the floor of the back bedroom and staring blankly at the ceiling. Bucky looks for all the world like he's trying to disappear but doesn't have the energy.

Steve lies down with him, gently links his fingers with Bucky's and waits until he's ready to say something. At least until he figures out why they're lying on the floor, and then he can't keep his mouth shut.

"You died here." He says, quietly. Bucky doesn't move, but his fingers twitch and squeeze Steve's just enough for him to feel it.

"I did." His voice sounds wrecked, and Steve wonders where he's been screaming so not even he can hear it.

"Why'd you come back?" He asks, tentatively, because he's not sure he's going to like the answer. Bucky is silent for a long time before he answers, words barely a whisper.

"I just died again."

That's all there is to say, in the end.

*

The entire house is stripped bare, everything carried off by Sam's brothers and Natasha's friends for the move. The trucks left yesterday morning, and by the time noon rolled around the family were gone too. All signs of life and vibrancy are gone, because nobody lives here anymore.

Bucky is alone.

He drifts through the rooms aimlessly, walking familiar routes and trying to remember every detail of the time when he actually enjoyed being here. He remembers his sisters coming over for Halloween and standing in the same place he'd laughed at Steve playing ghost under a sheet for Sarah this year. Everything runs on top of each other, good times over good times, but it's all dead. Bucky has nothing but his memories, and he's trying to convince himself he's okay with that.

He ends up sitting on the living room carpet, instinctually taking his usual spot in front of where the couch used to be. He closes his eyes and pretends he can feel Steve's bony knees digging into his back, that he can hear the background noises of family around him and that he's not totally, awfully alone.

"Buck?"

For a full-time ghost, Bucky can apparently still get scared.

His eyes snap open and immediately get so wide they almost hurt, which he'd think was impossible if his chest didn't also ache at the sight of the little blond punk in his living room. Standing right there like he never left, like he'd just walked through the wall and interrupted Bucky's fun for the first time.

"You're here."

"I'm here." Steve looks just as shocked as Bucky feels, staring around the room like he can't believe this is happening. Neither of them can. "Why am I here?"

"I don't know." Bucky tries to get to his feet too fast and almost loses his balance, Steve grabbing his arm instinctively to stop him falling. They touch without effort or concentration, solid. "I thought you couldn't leave her. I thought she needed you."

"I… I think maybe she doesn't need me anymore." Steve is totally confused, but he's starting to smile as he puzzles out what the hell has happened. "She was happy at the new house, and she has a family now, a good one that loves her. I think maybe she doesn't need protecting anymore. I think maybe there's someone else who needs me now."

What's happening hits Bucky all at once, and a smile brighter than any Steve has ever seen spreads across his face. There's no sadness lingering in his eyes, and if it wasn't a stupid thing to say then Steve would almost think he looks alive again.

"You wanna not-live here with me?" He asks, hardly daring to believe that something is going right for the first time since he died. Steve grabs his hand and grins back, because he's going to miss Sarah but he thinks he and Bucky both deserve to be happy for a change.

"Yeah, asshole. I do." He kisses Bucky a little too hard and knocks them both off-balance, sending them onto the floor in a fit of giggles. Nobody has to be alone here, not anymore.

Maybe the next family that moves in doesn't need to be scared away. Maybe the house has had enough silence and sadness for a lifetime.

Or, well, an after-lifetime.


End file.
